The Further Adventures of an Idiot Abroad (13 page)

It looked even older on the inside. Light blue and grey metal everywhere with a few worn switches and a bog standard office fan bolted to the ceiling to keep the place cool. They pulled at my
belts a few more times to make sure they were safe and then locked the door. I had headphones on and could hear everyone doing their last-minute checks. I felt really helpless sat there. Is this
how it is for spacemen? I didn’t even get to hit a start button. It started to move. I tensed up. The woman in the control room asked me to calm down and breathe normally. Is there anything
more annoying than someone asking you to calm down? It was an odd sensation, as there wasn’t really any sound or feeling of movement, but I could feel pressure pushing me down as it spun. The
ride didn’t last very long, but I guess that’s ’cos it must be an expensive thing to run. Once that was over, I was off to a briefing on details of a zero gravity flight that
would be taking place the next day at 7 a.m. This is a flight where you experience floating around like you would in space. The instructor explained that the plane doesn’t actually go into
space but instead gets to a height that allows them to basically plummet down to earth, giving the impression of floating when in fact you’re falling.

He said we must eat breakfast but to avoid coffee from now until after the flight and that if we felt sick it is best to be sick in the bags that would be provided. He went on to say that there
would be parachutes on board for everyone in case they were required.

A video then played, showing a group of cosmonauts floating around. Then it started getting silly. They showed lit matches floating around and men spraying cream from cans and eating it. No
wonder they get sick.

Then there was David Coulthard, the Formula 1 driver, floating about with his car onboard, which was also floating. What was going on?! Was all this pissing about really part of the space
programme? I’ve always doubted the seriousness of it all after I heard about an astronaut who hit a golfball 2,400 feet when he was on the moon. No wonder they always put a flag up when they
land, they’re playing bloody pitch ’n’ putt up there!

I stayed the night in one of the blocks of flats that were built for the cosmonauts to live in before and after their trips into space to work on the space station. They were nothing fancy,
similar to the sort of room you get in a Travelodge. I was sat in the communal kitchen eating some biscuits when I met Sergei. He had just got back from being in space. He had been away for a few
months and was glad to be back. I asked him what it was like to see earth from up there, but he said they were all too busy to be looking out of windows. To him it was just a job. I asked him what
the worst thing about his work was, and he said the taste of bread. He said bread in space doesn’t taste as nice as it does on earth. Not exactly the speech I was expecting. It doesn’t
have quite as much clout as Neil Armstrong’s, but I guess everyone’s different.

Sergei noticed my biscuits, so he offered me some of his space food. I was surprised to see that half of it was in tin cans – and not the modern sort where you get a ring pull, which means
before lift-off it must have been someone’s job to check they had a tin opener. The tinned food didn’t look very appetising. They were very plain cans that reminded me of when I worked
in Cordon Bleu supermarket and we used to sell cans of things cheap that didn’t have any labels. It was a bit of a gamble at ten pence per can. It could have been beans, soup, stewed meat or
dog food.

He went off to his room and came back with a cosmonaut nappy for me as a souvenir. His English wasn’t great, but I think he said it’s what they wear during the trip to the space
station. I took it, as I thought it might come in handy on the train seeing as the toilets are constantly locked.

The next day I didn’t feel too good. I was really tired and had a sore throat. I had to have my health check before getting on board the zero gravity flight. The doctor asked if I had any
problems. I told her I got headaches and have had kidney stones, a bad back, sinus problems, a bit of eczema and have quite flat feet. After checking my throat and ears she said I was not well and
that my glands were swollen, and that it wouldn’t be good to go flying as I could damage my hearing. Now, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t that fussed. I was glad to get out of doing
the zero gravity flight. Experiencing weightlessness seems like the ultimate lazy thing to wish for. There are times when I wish it was possible, like when I have a ceiling to paint, but other than
that I didn’t see the point. The director went white when he heard I couldn’t go. He looked more ill than I felt. He explained that it had cost a fortune to get on this flight. What
could I do? I wasn’t willing to do my ears in.

I called Ricky to let him know.

I saw another doctor to get a second opinion, and they said I had tonsillitis and gave me some antibiotics. The prescription featured the same angry font I’d seen a lot during my trip. It
looked like a box of rat poison.

The director and film crew went on board. I gave one of the cosmonauts a family pack of Revels to throw about in zero gravity, as I was sick of them. I went on to see what it looked like. It was
basically a jumbo jet with no windows, all the seats taken out and mattresses tied to the floor. Three men were strapped to a control area. I guessed they were there to signal what to do,
’cos I’m pretty sure they weren’t there to serve nuts and duty free during the flight.

The film crew looked worried sick. I was happy not to be going on it. I went and sat at a table next to the runway for about an hour before they all returned with small bags of sick. Most of
them said it was good but they wouldn’t want to do it again.

Ricky called to let me know he’d arranged some company for me. He said I was going to meet Magnet Man. (As his name suggests, he is a man who is magnetic.) I enjoy weird stuff like this,
it’s what makes the world interesting. I made my way to his carriage. Mikhail was a dead ringer for Bez out of The Happy Mondays. He was bare-chested and he didn’t speak English, so
there was no small talk. He went straight into sticking cutlery to his chest. It’s a strange one, ’cos as much as it is a type of superpower it’s not one that you think might be a
useful one. I remember seeing a bloke on the TV who had a good superpower. He could mess about with live wires without it killing him, but like Mikhail he didn’t do much with it, just used
his power to cook sausages in his hands.

I was trying to think of positive uses for a magnet man but I struggled. Finding a needle in a haystack, maybe. I think I came up with more reasons why it was more of a weakness than an
advantage. If he lay on a metal-springed mattress would he have been able to get out of bed?